Worship
by MidKnight2501
Summary: Clex, but not slash. Lex does some worshiping.


Title: Worship  
Author: MidKnight  
Email: MidKnightslair@juno.com  
Feedback: Hit me, baby...  
Notes: On Lex's lines about what colors his hair used to turn...I'm not kidding. My hair is just like his was when he was a kid and my hair does the exact same thing.  
  
  
  
"Clark?" The question was tentative, though the word seemed wrong to describe anything Lex Luthor did. Not sure it was even Lex asking, Clark looked up and glanced around for one of the servants. None were in sight and he looked to the magnificent mahogany desk.  
  
Lex was cradling a large goblet, swirling a little bit of bourbon around it. His open laptop sat in front of him, the fan inside barely stirring the silence in the room. They had both been working previously, Clark on a research project and Lex on an analysis.  
  
"Yes?" Regardless of the fact that Lex was looking at him, he couldn't be sure the man was aware of him; Lex tended to think in his head, staring for long periods at nothing without even seeing it. The trait had unnerved Clark the first few times he'd sought refuge at the mansion to work on things in quiet; looking up to find Lex staring at him for hours at a time, before suddenly moving to write or type something he'd solved in his head.  
  
"Can I ask for a favor?" Clark was almost taken aback at that and the expression must have showed on his face because Lex smiled, then buried it in a sip from the glass.  
  
"I...Sure." Clark said, somewhat puzzled. What could he possibly have that Lex did not already have, or could get? He set his pen down into the literature class binder and pushed it away on the coffee table he'd chosen to work on. Lex chuckled quietly and sat the snifter down, then closed the lid to his laptop. Muted, it beeped and the fan turned off.  
  
Moving gracefully the Luthor Heir stood, and walked around his desk, expensive slacks whispering. He knelt on the thick carpet, in front of Clark, looking as uncertain as he ever did. The farm boy hoped that someday he'd have enough self-control and poise to guard his emotions that well; the only reason he knew Lex was uncertain was the small tremors around his eyes, the darkening gray of his pupils. Lex's hands came up in a sudden jerking motion towards Clark's face and froze halfway.  
  
"If this bothers you, tell me." Lex licked his lips, another nervous gesture. Also an anticipatory one. Clark took the chance to study Lex's hands, which were long fingered and delicate, pale and sculpted like the remembered fingers on a Greek statue. Delicate wrists, the bone jutting out to a sharp point then disappearing into the unbuttoned wrists of the silk shirt. A shiny scar threaded across the back of Lex's right hand, razor thin. His hands moved forward slowly, non-threateningly, rising to ghost over Clark's hair.  
  
Lex had his bottom lip between his teeth and was worrying it absently as he lightly ran his cupped hands over Clark's curling hair. His gray eyes met with Clark's blue, and Lex nodded, seeing something there that reassured him that what he was doing was ok. The pale fingers had a little more force this time, the pads of Lex's fingers running across Clark's scalp as he carded the dark locks.   
  
It was a shocking contrast, the ebony hair and his ivory skin, feeling the corn silk soft strands wave and curl. His fingers brushed across Clark's forehead, and he unconsciously scooted forward until their legs were almost touching, bringing Clark further into the reach of his arms. Their skin tones reminded Lex of vanilla ice cream and caramel syrup, and he splayed his fingers, sliding them across Clark's warm scalp all the way to his nape, curls lapping across the backs of his hands. The man paused a moment to survey Clark's countenance, searching for any glimmer that this was something he should not be doing. Something he'd regret, something that would come between them. In all actuality Clark's head was bent forward, eyes half-mast, and a smile tugging at his lips. After a second Clark looked up, eyes still a little hazed.  
  
"Stopping?" He breathed, sounding curious. Lex shook his head.  
  
"Not if this doesn't bother you?" He made it a question. Clark shook his head 'no' while keeping it firmly meshed in Lex's hands. Lex chuckled again and curled his fingers into Clark's nape, just running them back and forth over the tendons under the skin there. His manipulations of Clark's body were excellent and in seconds the boy's eyes rolled up in his skull, the lids fluttering shut, and he produced a small moan of ecstasy. Pursing his lips at Clark's response, Lex allowed himself a small grin and leaned in closer to Clark's bowed head, palms cupping the tanned ears as his finger tips trailed over the fine skull bones there, earning him another moan.   
  
Still the corn silk hair flowed over his hands, caressing his knuckles, rubbing against the small webs of flesh between his fingers as he pushed his hands though his friend's hair. He felt it catch under his nails, on his cuticles, tickle the scar arching across one hand. Lex pressed his wrists into the dark hair, loving the feel of it across the super-sensitive skin there, his tendons and veins stark beneath the pale flesh.  
  
Without thinking, he leaned all he way in, pressing the side of his face into the mass of wavy locks. His hands fell to Clark's shoulders and Lex let his eyes fall closed too, as he nuzzled Clark's hair. It curled against his face, under his sharp cheekbones, lapping against his eyelids, and dragging under his chin.   
  
"How much?" Lex whispered, mouthing the words into Clark's hair. The teen rustled, shifting as he tried to rise out of the endorphin haze he was in; Lex noted and filed away how sensitive the boy was, in case he needed to incapacitate him in the future. The thought made him smile, and he turned his face farther into Clark's head, his nose tracing across the other's scalp, the black hairs tickling him.  
  
"Hn?" Clark shrugged, shoulders flexing under Lex's hands. Longer hairs kept trailing across his knuckles, sliding down into his cuffs. The teen's face came up a little, but Lex didn't move; he ended up with his face half against the dark hair and half against the caramel skin. "Did...What did you say?"  
  
Lex pulled back to let Clark sit up, his hair ruffled and eyes glazed, blushing. His fingers wove in Clark's nape caressing the tendons there even as the hair caressed his hand. "How much would I have to pay, to do this every once in a while?" He paused, watching as Clark's eyes opened in surprise. "You could have anything. Everything. Whatever you could possibly want."  
  
"I..." Clark's voice was husky and he swallowed hard to clear it. "You don't have to pay me for this, we're friends Lex."  
  
Lex tilted his head to the side, an allegory of dog-like behavior and studied him. Grey eyes traced across tanned features, the curve of his cheekbones, the straight nose, then up to the finger combed mop of raven locks.  
  
"I forget sometimes..." Lex's tone was low, as husky as Clark's was but he didn't bother to clear it. His explanation came easily, the reason he wanted to touch his friend's hair. "I was nine when I lost all of my hair." He tipped his head to the other side, cracking his neck as he continued his perusal. Clark winced, eyes falling away from the contact with Lex's unfaltering gray.  
  
"What color was it?" Clark whispered. His blue eyes came back up and Lex smiled reassuringly.  
  
"Red. In summer the sun would bleach it to a coppery, carrot color, during the winter it got darker, a blood russet. Maybe garnet colored." His fingers slid up Clark's scalp to the crown, pulling the curls out between his fingers then watching them spring back against the caramel skin. "Other than the color and length, your hair is almost exactly like mine was."  
  
"Yours was shorter?"  
  
"Longer."  
  
"Really?" Clark's blue eyes traced across Lex's bald skin, imagining where the hair would have been. "How long?" One of Lex's hands released Clark's hair long enough to touch his own silk shirt covered shoulder.  
  
"Here, maybe. I wanted to keep growing it out so I could have a pony tail down to my shoulder blades." Lex laughed. "I wanted to be a hero, have my own Trojan horse, and sword with a shield. In my mind heroes had pony tails." His face fell suddenly and he frowned. "Dad thought it was too feminine and he was going to have it cut short as soon as we returned to Metropolis that day." He smirked. "Fate beat him to it."  
  
Without a word Clark gripped Lex's hand and pulled it back to his hair. The billionaire gave him a radiant smile before burying his fingers back in hair the color of the midnight sky. 


End file.
